


December, 1893

by Eskiwen



Series: Fate Week 2021 [1]
Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Fate Week 2021, Fate Week 2021 Day 1: Hero/Villain, Fate Week 2021 Day 1: Memory, Gen, Is this pretentious? I feel like this is pretentious, MY NAME IS ESKI AND I LOVE MESSING WITH FORMATTING, That's right I did BOTH prompts, anyway this is why moriarty's back hurts kids, not bad for something I pushed out in one sitting, spoilers for a 100+ year old story I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28703769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eskiwen/pseuds/Eskiwen
Summary: Written for Fate Week 2021, Day one - Memory + Hero/Villain.Two different perspectives on the same event, mingling together. A death, and an unlikely survival. Two different men, together for a final conclusion.Where does the Villain end and the Hero begin?
Series: Fate Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104092
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	December, 1893

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, long time no see! I've had a bad case of writer's block lately...uh......honestly all year, so I'm hoping that doing some stories within the time frame of Fate Week will help me get back the last bit of the chapter I've been working on. Yes, it will be primarily Moriarty / Victorians centered, I'm predictable.
> 
> I'll probably upload all the stories to a collection fic on FFN once a day after the week is officially done for archival purposes. 
> 
> This piece is based on, honestly, both Moriarty and Holmes' interludes in jp - there's some real juicy things hinted at that I wanted to play with, though I might also explore it a bit more from Moriarty's side for the second prompt. It's also based a little on one of Moriarty's Defeat lines. See if you can guess which one!

The Falls' water was cold, spattering on him from where he struggled to finish his final letter to Watson - dear Watson, called away by the very man who intended to destroy him. 

The same man who was calmly staring at him, looking for all the world like a man patiently waiting his turn at a street vendor's stall in London. Was the very blood in his veins ice, or was he merely that assured of his victory and triumph? 

_Or is it something else?_ His constantly thinking mind whispered, the last few lines appearing on the page as the droplets from the waterfall distorted a few unlucky letters. _Is it mutual des_ -

He stilled the thought.

There was no point in thinking about it now - they'd reached that conclusion, that point, that he had been warned of in his flat. He'd had his chances to turn back, to turn his back on revealing the depth the man in front of him ruled London's dark underbelly of Crime...and he'd refused with a smile.

So there was little point on thinking about the 'what ifs' or 'motive' - the game was no longer afoot.

Waiting just long enough for the ink to dry even in these miserably cold, damp conditions, Holmes set the note on the boulder next to his alpine-stock, anchoring it in place from the wind with his silver cigarette case.

"There's enough time for a last smoke," Moriarty stated levelly, his piercing gaze never leaving the detective's face.

"I believe I've had enough of it for now, thank you." 

Moriarty's expression didn't change, but his eyes seemed to grow thoughtful for just a second. Holmes suppressed his instinct to wonder why.

A long silence stretched between them.

The howling of the falls burnt itself into Holmes' very soul, along with the feeling of wet flecks of water and the smell of damp mud and mossy rocks.

Whatever happened from this point on - 

\- In the end, Sherlock Holmes had already won.

***

The Falls' water was cold, spattering on him from where he watched Holmes finish writing his letter to the doctor he'd come here with - John Watson. He knew the man, had his sources look into the doctor and had them all come up annoyingly, squeakily clean.

But then, it wasn't as if he would have done anything had the doctor had a shady past. Taunted Holmes with the knowledge, yes, but nothing against the man himself. His Nemesis deserved that much respect, at the least.

The detective hadn't turned his back to write the note, the lines of his body making it clear he feared retaliation if he did. But surely, he should know by now that Moriarty would never do that - he was, after all, the man who had stepped into his flat and warned him off directly from his course.

A course that led them here, through a single man's smiling refusal to listen.

In fact, he hadn't brought a gun to the Falls at all. To show a villain's stubbornness, of course - nothing more.

His eyes never left Holmes' face, studying each twitch and brow movement, even though it was pointless.

There was nothing more to be gained from determining his thoughts and emotions now, was there? Not now, in this place. 

The final line was penned, and the note was placed on a boulder away from the fight about to take place - and the glimmer of the silver case securing it caught his eye. 

"There's enough time for a last smoke."

"I believe I've had enough of it for now," a smile that tilted the corners of Holmes' mouth up while his eyes stayed clear and unreadable, "Thank you."

_We Englishmen are always polite to the end, aren't we?_

_How utterly daft._

A long silence stretched between them.

The howling of the falls burnt itself into Moriarty's very soul, along with the feeling of mud sucking at his shoes and the taste of cold, humid air.

Whatever happened from this point on - 

\- In the end, James Moriarty had already lost.

***

There is a concept, in the orient.

Of Fate tying one so deeply to a person or a conclusion, that it cannot be denied, overturned, or run from.

The concept of reincarnating and meeting people who your soul is tied with, no matter what they are to you. Lovers, friends, rivals....enemies.

A romantic concept, if a silly one, scoffed at by both of them privately when they learned it. Fate being set in stone - too much like a priest's sermon telling of 'God's plan' for everyone, or the concept of having your life written out in some holy book an angel watched over. 

A concept not for thinking, rational men.

...Yet.

In the space before the fight, they both knew, without a shadow of a doubt -

 _That this is our **fate**_ -

***

Hands wrapped around his neck, squeezing painfully.

He put as much force as he could behind his hands, but ultimately his grip loosened as a knee jabbed into his stomach.

Grabbing at his arms, feet sliding as the mud gave way.

Pushing back, trying to use the sliding to his advantage, to push the man off the ledge.

Gripping clothing, dragging him right along to that edge.

Heads slamming together, hazy vision and gritted teeth and the iron taste of blood in his mouth. 

Hearts pounding and adrenaline racing,

locking together in combat once more and

\- Ah -

He realized, with a sudden shock,

That they had fallen from the ledge together,

towards the rocks.

***

By some grace of god, he was on 'top' as they fell. There was barely time to react, seconds before they would hit -

Then, all at once, the feeling and sound of what he later realized was a spine breaking against the rocks, somehow both muffled and loud at once.

In his shocked mind, he couldn't help but recall the sound the joint bones of a ham made when you forcibly tore it apart.

The strangled, breathless wheeze of a scream brought him back to reality as his own body crushed against the man below him, before they both slid off of the slippery surface and into the -

- _knifelike, achingly cold-!_

water below. 

The shock of the frigid water soaked into his body and made him unable to move for a second, plunged under the surface and weighted down by his clothing - clothing meant to keep him warm on land. 

For a moment, he could see nothing - but as the water cleared, he saw the gray light of day shimmering on the surface, just out of reach. 

And with all his strength, he swam for it.

***

By some twist of fate, he was on the 'bottom' as they fell. There was barely time to react, seconds before they would hit -

His spine broke upon impact like a twig against a knee, along with the cracking of his ribcage as the added weight of the man on top of him slammed down.

There wasn't enough air left in his lungs to scream, a pathetic wheeze crawling out of his mouth before they both slid off the rock and into the water.

Oh, it was cold. Bitingly so. But he was already in a state of shock, so he could barely feel it past the horrible sense of numbness in his lower body, the pain ceasing at a precise point at his back. 

His body was so unbearably heavy, sodden with water and dragging him down....and he couldn't even move. He unconsciously breathed in, and -

- _ah, so that's what drowning feels like._

For a moment, he could see nothing - but as the water cleared, he saw the gray light of day shimmering on the surface, just out of reach.

_...How beautiful._

Darkness began to swallow the light in his vision.

***

Sherlock Holmes' head breached the surface of the water, gasping for air.

James Moriarty closed his eyes, and was dragged down into the depths of Reichenbach Falls.

That is what was recorded as having happened at those Falls. Thus, it is the Truth.

Two men went, and one man returned.

Sherlock Holmes survived, and James Moriarty died.

The Detective won, and the Criminal Mastermind lost.

Even if the men switched places, it wouldn't matter - the Truth would still remain the same.

That's fate, you see.

...How convenient.

***

Holmes opened his eyes and gave a tired sigh. 

Ever since he rifled through Moriarty's memories when the man had absorbed him in Shinjuku, memories would sometimes come to the foreground unbidden. Small things, snippets of most - but the clearest were the memories they both shared. The meeting at the flat, and their final confrontation at the Falls were both annoyingly perfect, like a recording of a painful moment crystalized in time.

 _...Painful?_ He thought in momentary confusion. _Why would it be painful?_

After a moment's thought, he shrugged. No, it was the prelude to some painful moments (though also enriching), so that must be why he thought of them that way. Though...

"Why now?" He muttered, steepling his hands for the moment. This particular one was insistent - coming on him whenever he had a moment of peace to himself, what with his sneaking around to prepare for the Clocktower's investigation of Chaldea. 

Another moment, and the answer came to him clear as day.

"Ah, yes....it's December."

December. A new year was surely coming, so he was merely reliving his past for the moment before moving forward. 

Lowering his hands, a small smile quirked up the corners of his mouth before he stood up and walked out of the room.

In another room, Moriarty opened his eyes and then closed them again - as the roar of the Falls repeated endlessly in his mind.


End file.
